


Surrender

by lieselmemingers



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-26
Updated: 2012-08-26
Packaged: 2017-11-12 22:38:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/496419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lieselmemingers/pseuds/lieselmemingers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I thought you were good at this,” Katniss breathes against his mouth. (Smut warning). Written for Day Three of the Prompts in Panem challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surrender

“I thought you were good at this,” Katniss breathes against his mouth.

Peeta shifts a little beneath her, and she can feel the dampness of sweat building between their hips. It’s a close night; so airless and warm that her braid sticks to her back and her whole body seems to swell with restless, heated air. He swallows, and she follows the wave of contracting muscles that press out from under the skin in his throat.

“At what?” he says, and stills as though he’s suddenly anxious.

She feels him soften a little inside her and rotates her slowly, fixing the problem and drawing a sharp gasp from him.

“Not  _this_ ,” she confirms, and sits up astride his hips, breathless. “I mean…getting someone on their back.”

“This is a little different to… _ah,_  to a wrestling match.”

Katniss smiles and grabs his wrists, pinning them either side of his head. He looks up at her as though she’s just offered him the world on a silver plate, and the moonlight shines in his eyes. She wonders how she managed without this for two years; the two years it took her to decide that she wanted children.

She leans down and presses a biting kiss at the centre of his chest. It blooms red under her teeth, and she sucks the pain away. He grunts and bucks his hips a little, brushing against something so deep she’d forgotten it was there during the dry spell.

“I’m not pregnant yet,” she reminds him, her voice low. “You don’t have to be careful.”

Katniss holds still again, and straightens her back again so she can observe him.

“I know,” he mutters, eyes getting entirely too attached to her breasts. “I…I’ve missed you. This.”

She swallows the lump in her throat. “So have I.”

“We’re going to make a baby,” he breathes gently.

Her hold on his wrists tighten, and she sees the strong outline of his veins spring up from underneath his pale skin, light against the dark skin of her hands. A large, waxy scar on his upper arm stretches across the heavy muscle there.

“Right now, we’re just doing this,” she breathes. “And I’m not really convinced that you were ever a good wrestler.”

He wrenches his wrists from her hands and moves them to her lower back, tipping her forward until her breasts are close enough to press his face against, then his mouth, teeth and tongue. She steadies herself and tries to stay unyielding and strong. She wants this control, but something in her enjoys the feeling of Peeta coiled like a spring, waiting.

He eases her down until he can kiss her, and she feels him slip from her. A warm, rough hand smoothes down the front of her body, slick from sweat, and comes to rest on her stomach. At first, she thinks he’s lost in tender thoughts about pregnancy, but then there’s an almighty push, and his strong arm beneath her as the world turns on its hinges and her back is sticky against the cool sheets.

His mouth finds her neck, and her legs come up around him.

“The wrestler’s back,” she mutters against the top of his head fondly.

“This isn’t really a tactic I ever used in a match,” he laughs against her collarbone.

Her heel runs down the smooth, cool metal of his leg, and she sighs. His hand slips down between them and she feels him ease back inside her. It had been hard at first, getting used to the feel of him inside her after so long shying away from this intimacy. It seemed necessary at the time, but now she can’t remember why.

“I could pin you again if I wanted to,” she gasps out as his thrusts grow strong and deep.

He holds both of her wrists above her head, and raises his eyebrows speculatively. She tries for a coy smile, but he swallows it with a kiss. The change in angle suddenly hits somewhere unwanted, and she flinches. “That’s not good,” she complains.

“Sorry,” he mutters, and shifts, trying to make it good again.

“I was better on top.”

“So be on top,” he retorts with a sly smile, and pull all the way out, stilling. She knows that he’s giving her an advantage, with his weight pushed up on his arms and ready to topple.

“Are you letting me win?” she asks indignantly.

“Only you could turn sex into a competition.”

He kneels between her legs, and for a moment she holds her breath, sure that he’s about to thrust inside her. But he holds still, fingers lightly caressing her knees. She squirms a little, ticklish, and tries to shift her hips up so that he’s in line with her. “You don’t want an easy match,” he says quietly, “so pin me from here.”

She sits up on her knees and wraps her arms around his neck. “Don’t go easy on me,” she breathes against his ear.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

She pushes against his shoulders with all her might, and he falters, but regains his balance easily, grinning all the way. She tries to concentrate her body weight, but he’s still to strong and heavy, and when his erection brushes between her legs, she wishes she’d let him go easy on her. Katniss takes a different approach, and wraps a firm hand around him. He steadies himself with a hand on the bed behind him, and she makes her move, shoving him down. He finally yields underneath her, and she climbs atop of him before he can regain the upper hand.

“I win,” she announces proudly.

“So you do,” he says contentedly, and lifts and lowers her over him.

“Does that mean,” she groans, “that I’m the better wrestler?”

She rides him slowly, and watches him throw his head back against the mattress. His hands fist in the sheets, and a light sheen of sweat blooms around the bruise on his chest that she brought to the surface earlier.

“You’re certainly resourceful,” he agrees.

“Better than you?” she coaxed, squeezing down on him. He clenches his teeth and hisses.

His hands go to her hips, and he encourages her to ride harder, deeper, quicker. She can feel the beginnings of her undoing collecting at the base of her stomach.

“Better than Peeta Mellark?” she grins.

His smile hardens a little, and a twinkle flies into his eyes. She stills and he sits up, kissing her gently. His hands move to her backside, and she moans into his mouth. “You’re forgetting-”

All of a sudden, she’s on her back again, her legs spread wide at his urging hands, and he’s kneeling between her legs. He tilts his hips and she cries out at the feel of it. “-how many matches I won, and how good I was. I don’t just yield.”

He thrusts, hard. She grips the sheets beneath her, utterly lost. His hand moves from her knee to thumb gently at the collection of nerves above where they’re joined, and she can’t cry out anymore; it sticks in her throat.

She comes hard, a few moments later, silently but with his name approaching her lips. He follows, and his breath comes in harsh gasps.

When he eases down into her arms a few moments later, she follows his ear with her mouth and whispers; “unfair play; I win by default.”


End file.
